Quarter
by Sat-Isis
Summary: The only logical conclusion to what happened to His Majesty's Royal Navy. Characters: Lt. Theodore Groves, Lt. Andrew Gillette, and Don Gutierre de Hevia y Valdés. Warnings: Surgery, Bodily Fluids, Offensive Language, and Spoilers for PotC:OST!
1. Chapter 1

The proudest moment of his entire life ended…badly. One moment he was holding a flag touched by the King's own hand while proclaiming the Fountain to be under British rule and the next minute he tumbled face-first into the shallow water. All that followed was utter pandemonium.

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><p>Glory to God and Spain, his mission was complete and the Fountain smashed. He turned and surveyed the ruin of men about the Fountain and found his eyes drawn to the colors of the Union Jack as it half swaddled the courageous fool. The Captain of the English Navy had disappeared and left his dead, wounded, and living behind. Those that were unharmed were as dazed as the wounded. His second in commanded looked to him for orders.<p>

"I welcome you English Mariners to our camp were you will find quarter with us. The wounded shall be cared for and the dead buried." Quietly, he said to his officer, "Make it so." His first called out orders and men were quickly taken under custody and triaged for the severity of their wounds.

Don Gutierre de Hevia y Valdés walked down to the man on his side half in the shallow water still clutching his flag and rolled him over. Such a waste of courage, but he would keep his promise and honor this man during his burial. Gutierre grasped the flag and began to take it from the officer's hands when suddenly the body bucked beneath him. Whining, the officer's face suddenly twisted in agony and his fists clenched white knuckled on the flag. _Still alive and incoherent with the pain, but for how long?_

"_Teniente_! This man is still alive, we must do what we can for him," called Gutierre. Again he tried to take the flag from the officer, but the man whined and grasped harder, trying to speaking a mumbling, "No, no, my responsibility. No, no, must protect it." Gutierre laid his hand upon the man's beetled brow and tried to sooth him; for the time being he would not take the flag that this man clung to as a lifeline. He found such devotion despite impending death incredibly honorable.

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><p>Pain was the first thing he was aware of and Groves did not know where he was. Men were all about him speaking gibberish and trying to take the flag. He would not give it up to them, it was under his guard! It took him a few moments to realize that he was in a tent and the sunlight and the heat bore down on him. He closed his eyes and the tears beaded up under his lashes before sliding down his temples. More people entered the tent by the sound of new voices and rustling canvas and Groves wished he could fall back into oblivion.<p>

"Give it to me, Groves," Gillette's voice like a razor out of the din of gibberish and Groves' eyes popped wide open. "Getting shot…hurts," Theo whined at Andrew. "It is going to hurt a lot more when they take the bullet out. Now give me the flag, Groves, I will keep it safe." Theo turned his head and loosed his grip of the flag. Andrew took it with his left hand, he was shirtless and his right arm was held up with a sling and a binding went over that shoulder and around his torso. "What…happened?" Groves asked. "I had my back sliced open." "You…are you…going to…be fine?" Gillette shrugged with his good shoulder, "I cannot move my right arm. Once the surgeon is done with you he will see if he can sew my muscles back together." "I'm…sorry." "No need. Just try not to cry when he digs for the bullet. England's reputation hangs upon you." "Fuck…you, An…drew." "Maybe when we are both better," Gillette said mockingly before being lead out of the tent.

Groves' clothes, without the impediment of the flag, were cut off him and some kind soul stuck a thick piece of leather soaked in liquor into his mouth. The men arranged themselves about him and grabbed hold of his arms and legs and held him down. Two men held his thighs and two others pinned him to the pallet by his chest. The surgeon approached and Groves was suddenly terrified and he went stock still under the hands that held him. The surgeon made his first exploratory probe into the wound and Groves screamed. And screamed. And screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

Gillette sat on a stool next to Theo's pallet and his good hand caressed the sweaty, shaved head; his bad arm was bound to his side. It was hoped that he would regain some use if it by keeping it still after the _cirujano_had sewn his muscles and skin back together.

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><p>All Andrew could hear was screaming as he waited for his turn to attempt to escape the butcher's bill. He stood near the men who were too far gone to be given anything more than their last rights. Cradling the folded flag against his chest, he tried to block out the screaming, and his lips followed the Latin of the priests as he paid his respect to the soon to be dead.<p>

It seemed as though Theo had been screaming for hours, but when Andrew noticed how suddenly quiet it had become it felt as though his whole being had snapped back into his body after floating for a bit in the haze after battle.

Somehow Andrew had crossed the camp in a second and was pushing back the canvas flap and bile rose in his throat to see Groves splayed out so still. Frozen, Gillette could not hear the soft weeping as the _cirujano_ stitched shut the hole in Theo's torso.

The last stitch in place and the burly men charged with holding men down stepped back from the table and Andrew was able to see Theo's pale face as he wept exhaustedly. Gillette's knees swooped out from under him and he crumpled and landed hard on his ass onto the dirt floor.

"_Hombre__impaciente_," the _cirujano_ wryly said as he turned in Andrew's direction. One of the burly men helped him back up and he stumbled towards the table. He reached out to rub away the tears from Groves' cheek. "Oh, God," Theo said in a child's whisper.

"Did you get it?" Andrew asked the _cirujano_. "_Sí_," he said and indicated the metal cup with the lump of deformed lead in it. Gillette leaned down to whisper in Groves' ear, "It's all right now, Theo, it's out."

"Oh, God," Theo repeated, "It's over…it's…over. Thank…God…" "There, there, no more tears or these Spaniards will think the worst of us!" Andrew chastised softly, teasingly. "Andrew? I want…to ask…" "Yes?" "Can you...tell him…I want to…keep the…ball?" "Oh, Theo," Andrew said in exasperation and looked at the _cirujano_.

Rolling his eyes to hide his grin, he plucked the bullet from the dish with a pair of tongs, opened his patient's hand, and dropped the lump into Theo's palm. Groves closed his hand around it so tightly as if he meant to crush it into dust and show that such a piddling thing could not kill him.

The burly men had come back with a pallet and Andrew had to step aside so that Theo could be transferred off the table and into a recovery tent. As they carried him out, Gillette placed the folded flag on his chest. It was his turn now and the _cirujano_ patted the table.

Gillette removed his coat, vest, and shirt with assistance and lay down on his belly. The _cirujano_ knew some English and Latin; Andrew was able to muddle through the two languages as the _cirujano_ told him how he came to find the ball in Groves and remove it.

Andrew bit down on the leather as his parts were pushed back together and sewn into place. The pressure of the men holding him down while the _cirujano_ worked was comforting and made it easier for him to decipher the story.

_It took a long time to find the ball, the hole just kept going and going, but there was no exit wound. There was concern that the lead had bounced off a rib and ricocheted off into the body, yet there was no gushing of life blood in the belly cavity._

_It took a long time to find the ball, the hole just kept going and going, but there was no exit wound. There was concern that the lead had bounced off a rib and ricocheted off into the body, yet there was no gushing of life blood in the belly cavity._

_The _teniente_ screamed fiercely as the metal was prodded about his insides to find the bullet – or at least the path where it had veered away. It went on for too long, the hole was too deep; and then an idea. _

_The men had shifted him to his side and a hand was passed over his back and there was a lump and a bruise. No hole, no blood. The _cirujano_ took his scalpel and cut the skin and there exposed some bits of charred wool; with his tongs he pulled at the fabric and a nasty lump of a ball popped out._

_The _cirujano_ stitched one side, then the other. And the _teniente_ wept in relief that he would no longer be impaled in the quest for a ball. Should there be no fever, it will be a fine recovery._

Gillette stood as his arm was bound to his side and the _cirujano_ warned him no to use it if he ever wanted it to work again. Andrew wondered briefly what his odds were and then determined he was no better nor worse off than Theo.

A man lead Gillette to a tent and inside was Groves resting on the pallet. There was an empty pallet for Andrew, but he requested a stool. He was not tired yet and eased the flag from Theo's hands and held it in his good arm. A stool was found and brought to him and Gillette sat down next to Groves.

The flag placed on his lap, he reached out to touch Theo's head to see if it was hot. Groves had always been hot-headed, but now he was warm, and Gillette touched his face and swirled circles with his finger tips. It was something his mother had done when he was ill as a boy, and now he did it to sooth his friend and brother in arms.


End file.
